


Love Regardless of Fate

by alikuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Budding Romance, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Femslash, Fix-It, Gen, Getting Together, Miscarriage, Past One-sided Turin/Finduilas (mentioned), Past Turin/Nienor (mentioned), Turin (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12290379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikuu/pseuds/alikuu
Summary: Finduilas saves Nienor from the river and the two begin the long process of healing together.





	Love Regardless of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/gifts).



> This fic is femslash, but since both our girls were canonically attracted to Turin, they are considered bisexual here.  
> Warnings: Contains miscarriage and references to canonical violence and death. 
> 
> To Elleth:  
> This fic is for you, dear! I wish I could have written more and I had plans for a much longer story, but then I got super pressed for time and I was forced to wrap up earlier than I wished. I hope you enjoy it anyway, your prompts were all brilliant and the hardest part of this challenge was choosing which one to write :D I almost wrote that Varda/Galadriel one and I'm so bummed out that I didn't have time to give it a go as a little treat. Anyway, I digress - I hope you like the story <3

A golden-haired _elleth_ with a cruel mark under her right collarbone stood upon a forested cliff, overlooking the steep ravine carved by the river Taeglin. Her stubborn heart that had endured after unspeakable injury and heartbreak still went on counting the moments inside her delicate chest, not faltering even at the sound of the raging dragon’s roars. There was a battle going on and she was drawn to its turmoil, just as she had been drawn to everything that her beloved Túrin had ever done. 

Finally, there was quiet and the dragon was dead. Something twisting in her heart told her that so was _Mormegil_. 

His loss was not as terrible as she had imagined - it left only a dull thud of emptiness in her _fea_ , but the edge of the blade of loss had only dulled as the years passed and she watched the subject of her affections replace her with another golden-haired woman.

Túrin hadn’t known that she was alive - no one did. However, it was ironic that the beautiful blonde girl had somehow ended up on the hill where Túrin sometimes sat, remembering her name - Finduilas, she was Finduilas. And on that hill, where Finduilas’ breast had been pierced with a cruel orc’s spear, _Mormegil_ met Níniel, the one that became his wife.

In the loaded silence after the battle’s end Finduilas lingered where she was, but it wasn’t grief or mourning keeping her there, overlooking the booming river that rushed in the steep gorge. It was the scream that she heard just after. 

The _elleth_ heard a woman’s cry, one filled with such sorrow and anguish that Finduilas couldn’t turn away. And soon enough she saw it -

A blur of white and gold and red, tumbling in the foaming, unforgiving currents of the raging river. Amongst black rocks and sharp turns the body tossed and turned, dragged quickly down the stream to an uncertain end. 

Finduilas closed her eyes. She knew Níniel had been heavy with Túrin’s child - the child of the man whom she had loved so dearly that she had forgiven him everything, even being able to find happiness without her existence in his world.

But it wasn’t thoughts of her late beloved that launched the _elleth_ to action in that moment. It was something else. Perhaps it was because even broken and torn, Finduilas was still the daughter of Orodreth, a nis who carried the light of the Trees burning in her blood. Or perhaps it was the opposite of that and she had become so broken and torn without _Mormegil_ that there was nothing left for Finduilas to live for?

Whichever it was, Finduilas turned and ran - the pieces of her once royal dress tattered and faded, from war, injury, and wear. Her hair was tangled, unbraided - a wild thing, like she had become living in the forests around the mortals’ camps. Like a deer she leapt over the gorge, but she did not aim for the other end. She dived into the deep water and at once the current took her. 

It shook and threw her against edges and rocks. She saw red in the spatter and foam around her, freezing water splashing and stabbing into her pale flesh like a thousand knives. Adrenaline pumped with the strong rhythm of her indomitable heart and she could almost ignore the pain and the cold.

What power helped her reach Níniel in time, Finduilas knew not, but in the dark currents that pulled her down and pushed her up, the elf maiden thought she saw slender arms and hair made of white foam. As if the water nymphs of Ulmo carried her, she closed in on Níniel and by the force of a miracle soon had the daughter of Man in her arms.

Uttering a silent prayer in her mind, Finduilas stopped fighting and allowed the water to do with her as it willed, and then she felt it wrap around her and drag her amongst the safest paths, carrying her at a mad pace, but never submerging her nor hurling her onto a jagged rock, until the river slowed down and she was washed off on a small pebbly beach with Níniel still tightly clutched in her embrace.

Chilled to the bone, Finduilas thanked the water spirits and dragged the drowned body of the moral girl against her chest. Níniel was as cold as ice, and her chest did not stir with breath. Hot tears of helplessness and frustration rolled down Finduilas’ already streaming face, and in a moment of madness, the _elleth_ leaned over her and kissed her lips, forcing breath into her chest. 

As suddenly as that, Níniel came to life and coughed water up. Startled, Finduilas drew back, crawling on all fours like a scared woodland beast. The mortal woman choked and stirred, but once her breathing had eased, she closed her unseeing eyes and fell limp again.

Feeling a little relieved, Finduilas approached the unconscious woman. It had been so terribly long since Finduilas had spoken to anyone. After Nargothrond’s fall and her terrible injury at the hands of the orcs, the unlikely rescue by a woodland man, whose name she did not know, but who had come to take her body down from the tree, unwittingly saving her life, Finduilas had become a wild, timid thing.

She had hidden amongst the trees, forever sundered from, but always near _Mormegil_ , who had come for her in the end (much too late). Who had wept for her on the hill (but not enough to give her the courage to come out of the forests and face him again). Who had remembered her name (but only until she had been replaced).

Carefully, Finduilas crept back to the golden-haired mortal and brushed the tangled wet mass of hair from her brow. Níniel was dressed in white, pale like her clear skin tone, but her robe was torn and stained in red.

There were not many injuries upon Níniel’s body - she had been spared the worst of the river’s rocky bed. But there was a huge spot of blood between her legs, and it didn’t take a healer to know the cause of such a stain. Finduilas’ heart clenched in regret - Níniel had lost her unborn child.

For a while Finduilas sat on the pebbles of the shore, watching the gentle fall of leaves into the river.

Next to her Níniel seemed to stir, but when Finduilas looked at her, she found the mortal woman shaking. There was a frown upon Níniel’s face, as if she was in pain or distress. Carefully, Finduilas touched her cheek and found the woman’s skin burning up with unnatural heat. 

…

When Níniel awoke, she didn’t seem confused by her strange surroundings. She was just terribly sad. Finduilas offered her a mouthful of herbal paste that she had ground, to bring down her fever. It helped that Finduilas was born during war, and had learned how to prepare such things as a part of her general education. 

Awake Níniel was just as unresponsive to touch as she had been when Finduilas fed her the paste while the mortal had been feverish and only half-aware. She didn’t protest and she took it, but her passivity worried the _elleth_. Was she fading, Finduilas wondered? Could humans even fade from grief, like elves did?

Finduilas continued to care for the mortal girl, keeping her safe and warm in the hollow below an ancient oak. It was warm amongst the soft padding of fallen leaves inside the hollow trunk of the ancient tree. Neither rain nor wind penetrated its shelter and it was a good home, at least for Finduilas. She foraged berries and edible roots during the day and fed them to the mortal woman, who accepted them without a word, not even a glance at the _elleth_.

Days passed into weeks and the great deeds of the age continued to roll by without Níniel or Finduilas, nor even Túrin Turambar. 

Finduilas supposed that even the greatest heroes can be forgotten once they have played their part. There was little to be said for the loved ones they left behind. Somehow the world hadn’t crumbled without Túrin in it, and Finduilas was still alive.

…

One pale morning Níniel sat on the forest floor beside Finduilas, while the elven woman was busy skinning the edible roots of a plant. In the time since her rescue Níniel had regained her physical strength and beauty - her face was once again as radiant as Finduilas remembered seeing it as she peeked amongst the branches of low-hanging trees, when she had trailed Túrin and his young bride amidst the forests of Brethil. 

Níniel was lithe, yet tall and strong. She was no willow branch - she was a flowering tree, despite all the hardship that had befallen her, she was still unbent and unbroken. 

Finduilas admired her - she had no idea where the strength of the Secondborn came from, but it was that selfsame bravery despite fragility that first caught the elleth’s eye when she had fallen in love with the mortal Túrin. 

And looking at Níniel, Finduilas couldn’t help but see a lot of him in her. It was uncanny, how much this mortal woman reminded her of the mortal man she had once loved. 

Without warning, Níniel turned, caught the elleth’s eyes and smiled wanly.

“What is your name?” Níniel asked. 

Finduilas was so surprised by the suddenness of the change in the other woman that she didn’t immediately respond.

“Do you even have a name, or have you forgotten it?” Níniel continued, rising to her knees and turning fully to face the _elleth_.

Finduilas felt her heart skip a beat. Níniel’s grey eyes were the same shade of _Mormegil_ ’s, she noticed, and just as beautiful. The light was back in them and its brilliance took the _elleth_ ’s breath away.

“It’s alright,” Níniel reassured her softly. “I had forgotten who I was too. I can see that you’ve been out on your own in the wilderness for a while. Do you understand when I speak?”

Finduilas remembered to nod.

“Shall I give you a name then?” Níniel offered and shuffled closer to her, until she could frame Finduilas’ face with both hands and brush aside the tangles of blonde hair from the _elleth_ ’s eyes.

Frozen in her spot, Finduilas let Níniel’s white hands caress their way down to her jaw as the mortal leaned down to catch the _elleth_ ’s light green gaze tenderly. Finduilas couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“I name you _Edraithdî_ \- Saviour,” Níniel announced and Finduilas had to laugh.

She laughed sweetly, surprising the other woman in turn when she spoke:

“But I have a name,” Finduilas responded amids peals of laughter. “I am Finduilas.”

Níniel blinked at her until her surprise melted into a timid smile. It made a warm swell of pleasure grow inside Finduilas’ chest to be uttering words once again, and to be doing so in front of such entranced audience.

“Although,” Finduilas continued with a playful tone, “it isn’t a name I would reject. I will be known as Finduilas _Edraithdi_ from now on.”

“Finduilas, Finduilas…” Níniel wondered aloud. “Such a familiar name, if only I knew where I have heard it before.”

“Perhaps you have heard it from your husband,” Finduilas suggested, the cheer draining from her eyes and those of Níniel. 

“Did you know my… husband?” Níniel asked and there was a terrible anxiety in the question.

“Yes, I did,” Finduilas said. “But that was a lifetime ago. That past no longer matters, Níniel.”

“You know my name!” Níniel’s eyes went wide. “How?”

“I know a lot about you,” Finduilas admitted.

Níniel was silent for a while as if abducted by some dark thought. The silence worried the _elleth_ , because there was something unnatural about it. Moments earlier it seemed that most of the grief had left Níniel, but in that moment, it felt like there was something else - a dark secret being clutched to the woman’s chest, which she wouldn’t let go.

“My child,” Níniel said finally.

Finduilas had known that the day when that question would be asked would eventually come. For that she was prepared.

“This way,” she stood and reached a hand down to help the other woman up.

…

It was a small thing really, and it lacked the elegance or extravagance of talent that most Noldorin monuments displayed, because Finduilas hadn’t had any tools at her disposal when she had constructed the simple woodland memorial for Níniel’s unborn child. However, she had poured her heart into it, and in the months that nature had taken its course, the place had grown out and become a lush green sanctuary of flowers and vines.

The smooth white stone Finduilas had selected to stand beneath a weeping willow shone brightly despite the thick shade of the tree that guarded it. Around it the _elleth_ had planted tiny white blossoms of Evermind, the star-shaped evergreen flower of remembrance. The deep blue Forget-me-nots had sprung on their own, and in the warm afternoon glow of the sun, the little clearing was bathed in a golden gleam, making the surface of the stone appear gilded. The nearby river’s bubbling sounded almost like a child’s laughter. 

Níniel stood with her gaze fixed on the stone, crowned with white and blue blossoms.

“Thank you,” Níniel whispered in the end. Finduilas turned to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, gifting the mourning woman strength from her own _fea_. 

Níniel wiped silent tears from her cheeks and smiled sadly.

“Do you think she would have been a girl? A golden haired girl with blue eyes like those flowers that now crown her memorial? Or a boy, as beautiful as a prince, as proud and daring as his father…”

“I don’t know,” Finduilas admitted. “All I know is that he or she would have been the most lucky child of Men, with a father like the fierce Túrin _Mormegil_ and a mother like the beautiful Níniel, who is strong no matter how many tears she has had to shed.”

Níniel’s tears were like liquid gold in the setting sun, and once again Finduilas wondered at this mortal woman’s poise and beauty, and how Níniel reminded her of _Mormegil_.

Feeling helpless to aid her in her grief, Finduilas gently stroked her long hair. Níniel lifted her grieving eyes and leaned closer to the other woman. A little awkwardly Finduilas opened her arms and received Níniel into her embrace. It felt right when Níniel pressed her chest against the elf-maiden’s own and leaned her chin on Finduilas’ shoulder with a sigh.

Finduilas’ body was as tense as a bow-string. It wasn’t just how long it had been since the last time she had felt anyone’s embrace, or even the fact that she had rarely held anyone except for her immediate family and her ill-fated fiance. There was a power in Níniel’s embrace, a strange magic that made Finduilas’ body come alive and at the same time helpless, as if the spear was once again lodged into her chest, making her unable to breathe. It was sweet and intoxicating and addictive - and when Níniel finally pulled away Finduilas missed her touch.

“I’m sorry,” Níniel’s voice sounded a little hoarse from crying. The golden-haired mortal took half a step away and unwound her arms from around Finduilas’ neck. Her grey eyes were shy, darting to the ground uncertainly. “I forget…”

“What did you forget?” dazed Finduilas answered and she heard her own voice as if from really far away.

“That elves don’t hug,” Níniel laughed through tears.

“That’s not true,” Finduilas breathed. She cupped the sides of Níniel’s face and her touch lingered there. “We do. When it’s someone we love.”

Níniel blinked wordlessly, high colour rising to her face and painting her pale cheeks an attractive shade of crimson. Finduilas wanted to kiss her, but she didn’t dare.

“I…” Níniel cleared her throat and took an uncertain step aside. She turned to the memorial once more and Finduilas remembered where they were and how much was still left unsaid between them.

“Before feelings of love can be professed, there are certain truths that need to come forth,” Níniel said quietly and then boldly caught Finduilas’ gaze. “I was once ignorant and made a grave mistake. I will not repeat it willingly.”

“What are you saying, Níniel?” Finduilas asked uncomprehendingly.

“Only that I am not just Níniel,” she answered and squared her jaw proudly. “I once forgot who I was, but my true name is Niënor, the mourning daughter of Morwen and Húrin, sister of a brother I had never met, until a dragon robbed me of my memories and ill-fate caused me to meet Túrin, naked and nameless upon a green mount, and fall in love with the person I should have called brother all along.”

Finduilas’ shock must have shown clearly upon her face, since Níniel closed her eyes in angst and turned her face away.

“I would understand if you hate me, now that you know the truth about me, and about the child whose memory you have so lovingly tended. I will never forget what you have done for us and I will be forever grateful to you, Finduilas _Edraithdî_ , even if you do not wish to see me again,” Níniel continued. “I hope you can forgive me for withholding this information from you for so long, and for any love you may have wasted on me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Finduilas uttered at last. 

Níniel looked at her dubiously.

“Niënor Níniel, daughter of Morwen and Hurin, sister of Túrin,” Finduilas continued. “You, your brother and your child are victims of a terrible curse, and while I had always known that Túrin was doomed, I fell in love with him. The same is now happening with you. Perhaps it’s my own doom to love the children of Hurin, regardless of what fate awaits me in the end.”

“I have told you my story,” Níniel responded carefully, “and I feel now is the time for you to tell me yours. How did you know Turambar? At first I believed you to be a wood-elf, but now I believe there is something you are not telling me. You speak with the dignity of an elven queen, and you shine with a light I have never seen in one of the folk of Doriath.”

“You are right, Niënor Níniel,” Finduilas confessed. “I have not told you the whole truth. The time for stories has come and you and I should sit and exchange ours, so that we can know each other better. But come, the sun is setting and soon the night will grow cold. Let’s go back to our home, steady our hearts with some food and drink. Then I will tell you everything you wish to know, and I hope you will too, for I am most curious about you.”

…

True to Finduilas’ word, that night they ate foraged leaf, root and fruit and drank the cool water of Taeglin. The year had been warm, but it was autumn already and while the forests fruits had grown lush and hearty, the night was cool and they huddle together by a small fire underneath the ancient trees. However, their hearts were marry and accompanied by Finduilas' songs in the melodic language of the West, the two women dined sweeter than they had done at any feast. They shared much with one another, recounted their stories and offered quiet comfort for their woes. By the end of the night both felt like they had known each other all their lives and were closer together than the dearest of friends.

"Goodnight, daughter of Orodreth, my beautiful savior," Niënor wished as they cuddled together to preserve the warmth once the fire had gone out. They lay together in a soft blanket of shrub and fallen leaves, sheltered and cradled by the thick roots of an oak tree. 

"Sleep well, Niënor Níniel," responded Finduilas and watched as the mortal closed her eyes as she did when falling asleep.

For a while Finduilas watched the steady fall and rise of Niënor's chest, longing to taste the peaceful breath that passed between those gently parted lips. Hesitantly the _elleth_ traced an elegant fingertip over the ridge of Niënor's upper lip, careful not to stir her from her rest.

To her surprise, Níniel opened her eyes and smiled boldly in the dark as she said:

"If you are going to kiss me, do it now! I am tired of waiting for you all night."

"I may say the same to you," Finduilas said when she regained the power of speech and the breath that had flown out of her breast in anticipation and surprise. 

Niënor laughed and leaned in until their noses touched. Her blonde lashes were made almost translucent in the moonlight and the her eyes looked dark, the grey swallowed by her pupils. 

"Alright then, I will do it myself," the mortal woman murmured and she reached the rest of the way until her smooth lips brushed the _elleth_ 's own. 

And then they kissed and Finduilas felt for the very first time that something wonderful had happened to her after the long series of tragedies in her life. And regardless of how fate had cheated her before and the fear of losing once again, Finduilas kissed back and allowed herself to believe in love. Because the world may have went on without them, but they had found each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Amy Fortuna for giving the fic a quick proof-read!


End file.
